By now her story is well known, but still bears repeating: FousheĆ© had been coming at the music business for years, even appearing as a contestant on NBCās The Voice in 2018 ā a show notorious for its inability to fast-track anyone except C-list country artists. Success wanted a more convoluted path: sample her voice and strap it to a beat; sell the beat (called ādeep endā) along with others in a sample pack; have Sleepy Hallow select ādeep endā for a 2020 freestyle; see the freestyle become a minor sensation for TikTokkers; prompt TikTokkers investigate to learn the owner of the voice; allow FousheĆ©ās family convince her to step forward and defy the spirit of the sample-pack code.
Since, the fleshed-out version of ādeep endā has joined Spotifyās quarter-billion streams club and the songwriter has collaborated with Steve Lacy ā she cowrote āBad Habitā ā and King Princess. Her debut album, 2021’s time machine, was released in conjunction with RCA, for which she is now a fully-fledged roster member.
Yet her breakout has never felt complete. For one, it began during the depth of pandemic restrictions and when homebound TikTok users handed out stardom weekly. For another, her idiosyncratic if unbeguiling debut clung tightly to ādeep endā in ā take your pick ā cynical or nervous fashion. After all, she had effectively rejected ādeep endā for her personal use only for it to return and presume to define her.
The follow up, softCORE, puts an end to that. For an album so desperate to say ‘Look at me! Iām different!’ itās a surprisingly cohesive and convincing relaunch. FousheĆ© piles her plate (patriarchy, racial identity, personal identity, sexual politics) and acts decisively, clearing the decks immediately with the Runaways tribute, āSimmer Downā. It introduces not only a raging, 200bpm tempo, fuzz bass, and a middle finger so stiff you wonder how she plays guitar with it, but most significantly the reinvention of her voice.
It cannot be understated the risk she has accepted here; ādeep endā made her a star because fans craved her singingās mystery and melancholy. She has said in interviews that she has an overdeveloped falsetto because, while she liked to sing R&B belters, she was shy and taught herself to sing quietly. Well, that falsetto is on full display on āSimmer Downā and is a mistimed squeak away from popping like a balloon.
If softCORE is porn, then the kink is experiencing FousheĆ©ās voice smash with a dozen tracks wearing different disguises, like Princeās Camille alter-ego on a journey from Milan to Minsk. āIām Fineā returns to ādeep endā tones only to be violated by white-hot screaming, while āBoredā veers from Brooke Candy to SZA over a double-bass, industrial/hyperpop beat. āSupernovaā, syncopated by an unassuming guitar melody, showcases the extent of her vocal command ā perhaps the worldās first helium-based banger. The Lil Uzi Vert collaboration āSpend the Moneyā has her vampily sing with her hair covering her eyes; the out-of-breath āDieā channels Le Tigre and Flo Milli; and āStupid Bitchā collapses after 50 panic-stations seconds and cheekily folds itself into the music-box milieu of her former identity.
Songs like āSmileā and āLet You Back Inā might offer encouragement to her original fans, but as the softer edges of softCORE they very clearly represent the past. In the four years since The Voice, FousheĆ© has a new one and her breakout is complete.